


What's for you won't go by you

by FrecklesHideNothing



Series: You and Me Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, EMT!Dean, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Insecure Dean Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Shipper!Sam, Student Castiel, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrecklesHideNothing/pseuds/FrecklesHideNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up where Lord Have Mercy left off - and Dean's trying to work out what it is to have a meaningful relationship with Cas that doesn't just come down to sex...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So... Where do we go from here?

Dean thinks about his mother a lot. It's no longer an open wound; an ulcer that he can't keep his tongue from or a scab to pick at, but it's a scar he carries. If he allows his mind wander, he'll consider the milestones they never got to share. Sometimes he'll dwell on the scraped knees that were never kissed better.

Other times he'll wonder how she would have handled the first time he got drunk, the way he'd failed to make it all the way to the bathroom before emptying his stomach of the acidic cocktail he was too inexperienced to know shouldn't have been mixed together. Would she have liked the girls and boys he brought home on his arm, or would no one ever have been truly good enough for her son.

He knows her first shot at motherhood wouldn't have been without error, but he often finds himself pondering on the advice she might have given. She would have known what to do. He wishes, with all the futility of one who knows their request can't be granted, that she could tell him he's doing the right thing; that being with Cas is the right thing.

He's found himself asking this of himself a lot, recently. His mother's picture doesn't give any more of a definitive answer than his reflection does.

 

 

At this very moment, however, Dean Winchester has never been more grateful that his mother can't see him. Mostly, because he has six feet worth of the most beautiful specimen of masculinity firmly ensconced in his lap. Cas is an animal - not in the sexual sense, because they're still not doing that yet - but in his need for touch; if he can be tactile, he will. This is including, but not limited to: hands slipping down spines, starting at shoulder blades and nestling into the dip at the bottom; nudges that evolve into him burrowing under arms and finally, Dean's own personal torment: snuggling on the sofa.

It happens every time. Cas sits, so Dean opts for a respectable distance a few cushions over - by the time it hits the first commercial break, he's got a lap full of Cas. Usually literally.

The problem is that they've only been dating a few weeks and they're very much still in the middle of the no sex zone, (Charlie likes to call it 'sexile' but Dean's not uttering that word under pain of torture). Cas appears to not give a flying fuck about the no sex rule. Or, which is far more likely, he's doing his damnedest to get Dean to break it.

Take now, for instance; he's got a knee on either side of Dean's thighs, a hand cupping either side of Dean's jaw, and he removed his own shirt about three segments ago. He's also appears to be trying to remove Dean's tonsils with his tongue acting as the only surgical equipment.

Cas' hand has now begun to seek out jean buttons - it doesn't seem to matter if they're his or Dean's - but Sam's return home is the only stay of execution Dean's going to get.

The door slamming is enough to prize Cas' lips from Dean's as he turns his head ruefully over his shoulder to greet Sam.

"I didn't expect you to be home so early." Cas follows this with a little cough to clear his throat - and head too, probably.

"Yeah, sorry about that. The date was a bust - turns out she knew Dean somehow, or her sister did... Anyway." Sam hurries to course correct, but Cas has turned to glare at Dean.

"I'd ask for a name," he's speaking to Sam, but it's very clear that Dean's being addressed, "but I doubt that would jog any memories for Dean."

And with that, he slides back from Dean's lap, scoops his shirt from the floor and heads to the bathroom. It's all really rather graceful, Dean's mind offers hazily.

"Yikes." Sam's eyes track back to Dean from the closed door. "I thought things were better between you two?"

Dean sighs and tips his head over the back of the couch. The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but it's better than dealing with Sam.

Sam's walked in on plenty of make out sessions and regardless of the level of pornographic content, he always shrieks and covers his eyes like a scandalised nun. It's very telling that he's not drawn any attention to what he walked in on today.

"Can't erase the past, Sammy, and it's pretty damn hard to predict the future."

Dean's exhausted and he doesn't know how to deal with the situation, so he gets up and heads to his room.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy Cas dedicating a very healthy amount of his free time to the pursuit of seducing Dean... Cas is exceptionally hot and Dean requires no coercion. In fact, if they'd just met, Dean would have wasted absolutely no time in divesting Cas of his jeans, shirt, shoes... He'd have spread him out and taught him all the ways his own body could sing. But therein lies the problem: Dean would be having a much easier time right now if Cas was a perfect stranger - they'd have a great time for a couple of hours, perhaps stretch it into a couple of days, but then they'd go their separate ways. Perhaps if they saw each other in a bar months down the line, they'd share a conspiring wink and a nostalgic encore performance, but that would be it. Cas is different. Cas is oh so very different and it's everything that make him wonderful, but it's also everything that is seriously messing with Dean's equilibrium.

Dean thinks Cas is hot as fuck and he really does enjoy spending time with him. Those two things are pretty mutually exclusive in Dean's recent past, though.

He rolls away from the side of the bed that holds the picture of his mother, because he knows she'd be disappointed, even if her smiling image doesn't waver.

Instead, Dean thinks about a novel he read years ago. Not his standard dystopian read. In fact, he doesn't really remember much about it - he thinks it was Faulkner, but he can't be sure and has no desire to cross check his facts. There's a line in the book that stood out to him though. Still resonates with perfect clarity: _in every relationship there's always one who loves deeper than the other. I don't mind if that person is me, only that you won't take advantage of it._

Dean knows without a doubt which part he plays in this fledgling relationship with Cas. He remembers the giddy enthusiasm of their first date in the café, how great it felt to be the hero of this story and how easy it would be to slip into this new role with Cas. He assumed that by taking sex out of the equation that his feelings would be clear. Salient. Cognizant. He has less than two weeks left on his self-imposed embargo and suddenly reality is a cruel fucking mistress.

He knows he's attracted to Cas but that's not enough. He knows Sam is supportive, but that's doing little to ease his anxiety. Cas had said it himself, whether he was joking about it being seven years or not, he's been waiting for Dean for a long time. How can reality ever live up to an ideal? Ultimately, if this thing between them continues, Dean's not sure he can avoid taking advantage of Cas...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I wrote this on my phone because I'm staying in a hotel tonight but inspiration struck. I'll go back and fix the errors later, I swear!

It's actually a couple of days before Dean sees Cas again properly. They might live together, but Dean's job has fairly antisocial hours, and Cas is finishing college and working a part time job at a local diner. He doesn't need the money, and Dean's always been too nervous about offending Cas to ask why he does it. He inherited a shit ton of money when he turned 21 and it threw a massive spanner into their frien- relationship when each thought the other would be heading for the exit. 

So Dean heads to work each day with little more than a few smiles exchanged over the rim of coffee cups. Sometimes it's just like before they kissed in that parking lot; he can pretend everything is simple. They orbit each other from a safe distance.

He's still not told Sam or Cas he's taking extra courses to upgrade to paramedic. It's stupid, but it's also nice to have something no one else knows about about. If it goes wrong, it's only himself he let down. It feels like everyone and their mother has something to say about his relationship with Cas, waiting for it to fail or be the next big thing, depending on which side the peanut gallery is rooting for. He also knows that the extra time spent away from home is going to need explaining eventually; he was aware of that before Sam accused him of hooking up with Charlie behind their backs, but thankfully another storm blew in to cover his proverbial tracks. He won't get so lucky twice. 

When he barrels into Cas' diner with Charlie, it's empty of the morning rush because they're both coming off a long-ass night shift. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't exactly a cake walk either. So instead of hustling the waitstaff for attention or side stepping the suited and booted business men with their grab-and-go breakfasts, they're treated to the fine dining experience of being sat almost instantly by a dark haired girl Dean thinks he might recognise. He knows pretty much all the staff here, but he's drawing a blank on her name. He just hopes to god he hasn't slept with her, because after their last conversation, night shift or not, Cas will try to castrate him. Publicly. Probably with a teaspoon. 

As Dean removes some of his outer layers, he cranes his head to see if he can catch sight of the man in question - these situations are usually easier to deflect if Cas stakes his claim nice and early. And marvellous, now Dean is looking to hide behind his boyfriend in order to avoid a girl he might or might not have slept with. Just how far down the rabbit hole has he fallen recently?

Thankfully, Cas appears behind the counter on the other side of the diner, sliding a plate of something warm and comforting at an old guy in a beige sweater. He nods politely when his offering is acknowledged and then as he sweeps the room, his eyes land on Dean. Ever since he's known him, Cas has always managed to look equal parts pleased and mortified whenever he sees Dean when he's not expecting to. He breaks eye contact pretty quickly, but he doesn't stifle his smile quickly enough before he turns around and Dean has a moment to feel pretty smug about catching him off guard until he turns back to his redundant menu and Charlie. 

While he's been making eyes at Cas across with sparsely populated diner, it's pretty clear she's been contemplating him just as intensely. 

"So," she asks, apropos of all the staring, he supposes, "how goes it between you two?" She's channeling nonchalant about as effectively as she is High Inquisitor at this point in time. 

"It goes," he quips back. 

She hums in acknowledgement, but manages to make it sound disbelieving at the same time. He's about to question her when he gets the prickly feeling of someone standing at his shoulder. 

Charlie's greeting is probably a little too enthusiastic for the non-conversation they were just having, but he turns to greet Cas, (who else) with a genuine smile. 

"Hey," he feels a little breathy and off kilter, like he's not sure if they're fighting or he should apologise or even if Cas is going to make a move to touch him, kiss him, drawn some public attention to their relationship. 

"Hello, Dean." He smiles, so that's something. "Charlie." Again with the smile - could have just been professional courtesy, but he and Charlie do seem to have been in text communication since that fateful meeting in the bar. He would worry about what they find to talk about, but he suspects it's him and some things he prefers to be in the dark about. 

"Have you just finished?" Cas lifts his hand as if to brush something from Dean's hairline but hesitates as if realising they're in public and at his place of work, so he makes a pretty clumsy attempt at negating the movement and reaching for the order pad he never uses. Dean's always been impressed by how freakishly good Cas' memory is. 

"Yeah, long night," Dean tries to keep the exhaustion from his voice, but Cas gets it anyway. He nods to Missouri who has appeared behind the counter and then tells them he'll be right back with coffees. 

"Did I pass out and miss the part where we order?" asks Charlie as Cas heads back across the diner. 

"Dude, you know Cas and Missouri have that freaky ability to suss out your order before you even know what you want. Plus," Dean continues, "you'll have pancakes. You always have pancakes." 

"Maybe I only ever have pancakes because they always Jedi Mind Trick me into thinking I want pancakes. Ever thought of that?" Her voice begins to take on that edge of hysteria that can only come from working hours that no sane human should be awake for. "Perhaps I wanted oatmeal today!" 

Her tirade is cut short by Missouri herself delivering the coffee. Dean tries to be furtive when he casts his eye around to see where Cas went, but he meets Missouri's knowing eye regardless. 

"He's showing Hannah how to take a delivery," Missouri answers despite his lack of question. At his blank look, she continues, "that sweet girl that showed you to your seat." 

"Oh, right. Sweet girl, yeah," says Dean, for want of anything better. 

Missouri makes a discontented humming sound as if he's said completely the wrong thing. Jesus, maybe he has slept with her - Hannah, not Missouri, that would be wrong on so many levels - but then how does Missouri know if he doesn't? 

"You better be good to that boy, Dean Winchester." The way she says it makes it sound like she knows he's stringing Cas along. Which he's not. Well, at least he's not trying to. Hell, he's far too tired for any of this to be fair right now and Cas is so far away.

Except for the part where he's not. He appears out of thin air expertly balancing a tray of breakfast for both of them: eggs, biscuit, sausage and bacon for Dean; blueberry pancakes for Charlie. 

Cas smiles widely and leans in to audaciously peck Dean on the mouth. He stays bent double to turn to both Charlie and Dean in turn as he raises one hand and says with the most perfectly straight face and Alec Guinness voice, "These are not the droids you are searching for." And with that he sweeps away from the table all sexy and impressive.

Dean, however, is not ready to let him go. "Hey dork," he calls as several eyes in the diner turn their way. Cas pauses and raises an eyebrow at him over his shoulder in a manner that is criminally attractive. "Looking for," Dean supplies. Cas arches his eyebrow and becomes even hotter by default. "The line," presses Dean, "is 'these are not the droids you're looking for'," and he sits back smugly to tuck into his well deserved breakfast/dinner/who knows what meal his body thinks it's getting.

Missouri refills their drinks and wanders away muttering something that sounds suspiciously like she hopes Dean knows what he's looking for. Charlie's look says much the same. Dean just puts his head down and eats to fill the sudden void in his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

Days pass and all Dean can think about is the fact that they're not talking. Well, not 'not talking' because they're not six year olds who have fallen out in the playground, but he feels like he's lying to Cas every single time he sees him because he can't own up to his own doubts. Lying by omission his brain uselessly supplies because clearly he watches too many procedural cop and lawyer shows. There's probably a disgusting irony to the fact that his subconscious can identify his crime but not the solution. The thing is, the more time he has to think about it, the more he doubts. So he doesn't think. He allows Cas to run his fingers through Dean's hair as he dozes on the couch. He'll snuggle up behind Cas while he's washing up the dinner dishes, hooking his chin over his shoulder to feel Cas' stubble prickle against his own cheek. If he's honest with himself, he's just as tactile as Cas. He wants their relationship to be physical, wants to commit everything, but god damn it, it scares the ever loving crap out of him. 

He knows they can't keep this holding pattern going for long - eventually one of them is going to run out of fuel and then it's going be nothing but a crash and burn. He can already feel Cas' frustration when Dean pulls away or redirects hands. He needs to buy a vowel, or a clue or a fucking brain pretty pronto.

On the eve of the day his 'no sex' treaty is due to end, he walks to meet Cas after their respective shifts finish. He would have driven. Should have fucking driven because it's fucking fall and he has a beautiful car that Cas seems to enjoy as much as him. But because Cas enjoys nature and fresh air and all that shit, they walk. 

As he approaches the squat little building, he spots Cas through the window. He's sitting in one of the booths nearest the door toying idly with a packet of something. He seems exceptionally focused in the act, so Dean slows his pace and drinks in the sight of him. How could he question his feelings for Cas? Just looking at him makes him feel like his heart could go supernova. 

So, of course, because the universe hates Dean Winchester, he watches the girl, Hannah he thinks Missouri told him, slink into Cas' personal space and lean her hip against his bench seat while resting her hand on his shoulder and stroking her hand around the socket and down towards his shoulder blades. It's a casual touch, but it reeks of familiarity and Cas greets her with a warm smile. And damn it, that's Dean's smile! He doesn't even have to be able to see Cas' face to know that his eyes are bright and he looks a little goofy. Dean loves him for that goofy smile. And shit it all, he really does love Cas. He's known it all this time, but this is the first time he's witnessed the possibility of someone else loving Cas like he loves Cas. 

"What's up, Deano, did you forget how doors work again?"

Dean had been so thoroughly stupefied by scene in front of him, he hadn't heard the approaching crunch of heels on concrete. He flails ever so slightly in surprise which only makes Meg laugh at him even more. He can feel himself flushing profusely, not just for being caught gaping like a goldfish, but because of the intimacy of his thoughts at the time. 

"Meg," he sighs. "Hell empty?" 

She smiles in a manner than makes him think of cartoon cats with a mouth full of canary feathers. Her beautiful dark eyes dance as she claps him on the shoulder with far more force than it civilised. 

"All the devils are here," she purrs at him, then follows it up with a combined wink and ass-grab as she saunters past him and into the diner. He takes a momentary break from his jealousy to wonder why Cas' friends are such awful excuses for human beings and more to the point, why they keep touching his ass. 

He's interrupted from his self affirmation that his ass belongs to him and possibly Cas by the man himself. Clearly Meg has alerted him to Dean's presence, but if he knows her, she will have used much more colourful and demeaning language. He'll be lucky if he gets away with a stalker description. 

"Dean?" Cas' voice has that tone that makes him realise it's not the first time his name has been called. He leaves the glow of the diner's light and crosses towards Dean. He's not wearing a coat because he's an idiot who apparently doesn't have to obey seasonal climate change like the rest of the mortal world. Despite Dean's reservations about the scene he just witnessed with Hannah, he allows Cas to press close to him and absorb body heat. 

They're quiet for a long time. It piques Dean's suspicions even more. Does Cas feel guilty for getting caught? Is he waiting for Dean to say something? Did Meg say something? Hannah? 

"I missed you, today." It's said so quietly, and Cas has his head buried in Dean's front so effectively that it takes a moment to process the meaning of the words. 

"You saw me this morning, you dork." Dean smiles, despite himself, because Cas is glorious. 

"There was no touching, though." It's still muffled, but it sounds both petulant and contented. Only Cas would be capable of combining two such conflicting emotions. 

"Looks like you were getting plenty of touching a second ago." And there it is. Spiteful, petty Dean who can't let Cas have nice things. Or himself apparently, because Cas pulls away abruptly. 

"Were you spying on me"? It's his dangerous voice. The one that terrifies Dean as much as it turns him on. "Wait," he continues, "are you jealous?" His eyebrows are so high they're about to fly off into orbit. 

Dean's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't at this point. So he takes the mature option and shrugs, pulling out of Cas' hold at the same time. 

"I dunno Cas, what do you want me to say? You guys were looking pretty cosy." 

"Stop being obtuse, Dean." Cas' voice is flat and he's doing that horribly intimidating thing where he stares at a person until they turn to a pillar of salt. Dean doesn't particularly want to be a seasoning, so he drops his gaze to where his toe is kicking the ground without him being aware of the mental decision to put action into motion. 

"'m not being obtuse." Never let it be said that Dean Winchester doesn't know how to throw down with the best of them. "But I know what a girl's angling for when she touches someone like that." 

"Like what?" 

Even Dean is embarrassed by the mumble that he utters, but Cas is merciless and makes him repeat himself at full volume. "She was caressing you, okay?" He practically screams the last word. 

Cas' face crumples down into a squint. His mind is working quickly behind the scene, Dean can feel the next attack coming. 

Instead, he blindsides Dean. Again. Fucking unpredictable bastard. 

Cas turns and walk back towards the diner without a word. It's fully dark right now, so the inside of the building is lit up like a stage. He watches Cas enter, rubbing his upper arms in a manner that Dean suspects is more about comfort than warmth. He's so busy puzzling out Cas that he almost misses the fact that his return to the diner has interrupted a very heated kiss between Meg and Hannah.

"Son of a bitch," is all he can say, to no one in particular. 

He remains dumbfounded, unsure whether to chase after Cas and take him home to talk, or to let him blow off some steam. The point is rendered somewhat moot when Cas begins to retie his apron as Hannah removes hers. Brief words are exchanged, but Dean's on the outside in every single way. 

Hannah and Meg are quick to leave the building, and on their way past Dean, Meg reaches out to pinch his already cold-bitten cheek. 

"Thanks for the date night, Boy Wonder, I thought I was in for a long night of mooning over my favourite waitress." She adds two slaps in 'gratitude'. 

She seems to get that there's a problem when Dean makes no move to banter back. 

"Earth to Dean, come in number one." She waves her hand in front of him in an obnoxious fashion, yet he can feel the pity radiating from her as she exchanges a look with Hannah. 

She starts to say something else, but Hannah stills her and addresses Dean herself.

"I don't pretend to know everything that's going on between you and Cas." Her voice Has a light, honey tone. Dean doesn't think he's heard it before, but it does sound familiar all the same. "But I know he's unhappy." She punctuates this with direct eye contact, Dean's favourite thing. "My cousin deserves better, Dean." She smiles sadly and walks past him with her hand securely clasped in Meg's. 

It takes Dean a torturously long time to hit on the magic word: cousin. 

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean's embarrassingly tempted to walk away, to go home, crawl into bed and forget this whole sorry episode. But he's also a grownup. Sometimes. He pays taxes at the very least, so he does know that going into the diner is the right thing to do. It feels rather like an out of body experience; one foot following the other, completely independent of Dean's brain, which is still wondering how he could keep consistently fucking up to such an extent. 

The place is empty when he walks in and the door slamming shut sounds painfully loud. 

"We're closed." 

Cas' voice is biblically pissed off and Dean has to steel himself somewhat. He's pretty tempted to bite back, but he knows that where he and Cas are concerned, hostility begets hostility.

"Really? Sign outside says you're open twenty-four hours." He does his best to infuse his reply with his best panty dropping charm. 

"It's wrong, we're closed." Cas' voice is a little louder now, like he's come closer, but it's also punctuated with several sharp metallic blows, like he's manhandling every pot in the kitchen. 

"That's a real shame, I was hoping for some pie," Dean doesn't know if he was meant to hear the scoff, but he presses on valiantly, "and some quality time with my boyfriend." His voice kicks up at the end of the sentence, question clear. 

He's left to shift his feet uncomfortably, waiting to see what Cas' next move is going to be. 

"I don't know, Dean, do you have a boyfriend to spend time with?" Cas emerges from around the corner slowly, deliberately. He's drying his hands on a towel, but he's staring straight at Dean as he says it. The words hurt much more than he expected them to. 

"Do I?" He knows now is not the time for bravado, but it's really damn tempting to try to hide behind a wall of ambivalence. He catches Cas' eye roll and he pushes past him and slumps down on a stool at the counter facing away from Dean. He rests his elbows on the surface and covers his face with both hands. Dean is on the brink of moving when he hears Cas sigh heavily. 

"Missouri knew about you and I as soon as I saw her after the time we kissed in the parking lot. Well, I suppose I should say that time I kissed you in the parking lot." Dean says nothing in response to this, because he's really not sure what he's supposed to say or do right now. 

"She sat me down for a little chat," Cas continues, either oblivious to Dean's hesitations or uncaring. "She told me that you were the type of man that was going to need a nail through his foot to get him to settle down." He's moved his hands away from his face, but his head is bent and his voice is weary. "I laughed it off, because I thought I was special to you. I thought I could be that thing you needed." All the fury from earlier has gone out of him, he just looks sad - the smile curling at his lips only intensifies it. 

"Cas -" 

He doesn't move, so Dean walks forward to place a hand between his shoulder blades. Cas stiffens but doesn't recoil or flinch away. 

"Cas, you are special. Not just to me, to everyone who knows you - probably a few who don't." The joke falls flat, but Cas is still there so he'll take it. He begins to circle the palm of his hand. 

"Why isn't this easy?" Dean doesn't need to ask for clarification, he knows what Cas means. 

"We're family, Cas. Family isn't supposed to be easy." 

"You and Sam doesn't seem to have a problem." 

"Cas, firstly, if you think Sam and I have it easy all the time, you really haven't been paying attention. And secondly, how I feel about you has very little in common with how I feel about Sam." He's hoping that those were the magic words that will get Cas to turn around, but the stubborn ass stays resolutely facing the other way. 

"Cas, I care about you a whole hell of a lot, it's kinda why I've been trying to figure some things out. I don't want you to get hurt." 

Apparently these are the magic words but Cas looks pretty pissed again as he spins around so fast that he knocks Dean's touch away. 

"I hope you appreciate the irony in that cunning plan, Dean." 

Dean has always secretly loved it when Cas is pissed off, he radiates energy in a way that's practically addictive. He's also pretty sure that now is the least appropriate time for this revelation, so his brain kindly reminds his dick to shut the hell up. 

"I really do," is all he can say, because humility is the best option he has right now. 

"I'm really fucking pissed at you right now, Winchester." 

"I know," he replies, and takes a risk by leaning his head forward to rest against Cas' shoulder. 

"Monumentally pissed," says Cas. 

Dean hums as finger begin to rake through his hair. 

"As in, if we were having sex, I would be withholding it from you right now." Dean's smile, though it's hidden in the fabric of Cas' shirt, drops as soon as he catches Cas mumble, "assuming that's something that would actually upset you." 

Dean lifts his head to look Cas dead in the eye. "This is going to sound crass, but I don't know how else to make you understand: I have to stop myself, repeatedly, from acting on the impulse to fuck your brains out against the nearest available flat surface." 

Cas blinks serval times as he processes this. "You're right, that was crass." 

Dean wants to laugh at that, but he's not sure they're on stable enough ground to do that. So he brushes his own hand through Cas' hair and moves into the space between his thighs to kiss his forehead just below the line of his hair. He gets a sigh in response, but it's much less fitful than anything he's heard all evening. 

Dean's reminded of how young Cas is. Not because he looks it, or acts it. In fact, it's the antithesis of these things that makes him pause, smile and run his thumb over crow's feet that don't exist; up into the hair at his temples. Cas, tense as he is and clearly not quite sure what movement to anticipate from Dean, ultimately relaxes into the touch. 

"See something you like?" Cas' eyes are closed and his lashes flutter as he clearly fights the urge to open them and check on Dean. 

"Very much so." Dean leans in further. The fingers that have navigated by instinct to the back of Cas' neck tell him to anticipate a kiss, and his mouth opens ever so slightly. 

Dean intends to complete the kiss, he really does, but he doesn't. 

"Are you deliberately being an asshole, Winchester?" Cas initially keeps his eyes closed, but when his teasing is met with silence, he cracks open one and then the other eye and wavers on the precipice of extremely pissed off and cautiously curious. 

Dean swallows and drops his eyes and hands from Cas to pick at a loose thread that has clung on to his jeans. "Cas," he begins, but falters at the sound of the younger man's sharp, irritated exhalation.

"What, Dean?"

"You're a lot younger than I am..."

"Oh fuck my life; this? Again? We're going to have this fight again?" 

Cas' muscles have coiled tight and out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see that his fists are balled tightly. And if Dean's honest with himself, even he's not sure when this became a fight, but it feels like he and Cas have been fucking or fighting throughout their entire relationship. Except without the actual fucking part, but then that's on him too. And this is where the root of the problem lies: Cas is young; he's wise beyond what anyone his age has a right to be. And all this time Dean thought he was protecting Cas, he thought Cas was the one who loved too much and that Dean would inadvertently take advantage of him. So he kept him at a distance and hoped that Cas would realise that he was infatuated with the idea of Dean, rather than the man himself. That if he put off sex and anything else too intimate, then their friendship could still be salvaged. 

In that hazy moment as Dean leaned in to kiss him, he realised with sudden, horrible clarity that it wasn't Cas who was going to love too much, it was Dean. Dean was going to lose him because Cas is young, wise, brilliant, grumpy, sarcastic and perfect. Cas will outgrow Dean the way that Dean outgrew any number of the romantic faces from his past. Cas will move on, but Dean will never be able to, because Cas is truly the best thing that's ever happened to him. 

Dean moves away from the counter and sits heavily a few feet away with a weary exhalation of Cas' name. He doesn't look up, but if he knows Cas, (and dear god, will he ever really know Cas?) he's waring with his fight or flight reflexes. The last time they were in this situation was because Dean was trying to protect Cas, here they are several months later and the song remains the same. Except now there's a little self-preservation thrown into the mix. 

Dean wishes with all his heart his mother was still here. Well, not in the room right now, per se, but here to seek advice from. She'd card her hands through his hair and tell him she loved him no matter how royally he fucked up. He likes to think his mother would swear should the occasion call for it. 

He almost gives himself a heart attack when he realises the phantom fingers in his hair have solidified. It takes a full, embarrassingly long minute to understand that it's not his mother he sees when he looks up, but Cas. 

"Tell me." There's no force behind the imperative, it's really more of an encouragement. A request to end this needless cycle they've been trapped in. 

"Cas -" Dean hesitates, then starts again. "Cas, what happens to our family when you realise you're too good for me?" 

The hand in his hair stills and he unconsciously braces for Cas to strike him once and for all, like he expected in the car park all those months ago and instead got a kiss that knocked his entire world off kilter. Instead the hand moves to his chin and guides Dean's head to look at him. 

Dean can't tell if what he's seeing is white hot fury, or if it's beyond that, that he's finally burnt deep enough to kill nerve endings in Cas. 

"Dean Winchester, I fucking love you, but you're an absolute idiot sometimes." 

"You gonna swear at me the first time you tell me you love me?" Dean knows it's a deflection, but he needs a tiny bit of air to circulate around his brain. Cas might not be too far off with the 'idiot' comment either. 

Cas sighs but sits down next to him, gracefully, like he's not burdened by the things that worry Dean awake in the middle of the night. It's exponentially easier to talk to Cas when he's not having to look directly at him. It's not exactly like staring into the sun, but it feels like it fucks him up a little all the same. Cas represents everything he longs for but fears getting because the reality can't possibly match up to the expectation. 

"Profanities don't usually work you up into this much of a stupor." Cas is clearly trying to make peace; allowing Dean to side step the bigger issue. And God does he want to. He wants to not have a conversation that's going to make him feel like he's part of some Lifetime special. 

"Did you mean it?" His voice is so little, and he feels vulnerable. Dean fucking hates feeling like this. 

"Of course I think you're an idiot, it's one of your most charming features," Cas smiles and nudges him in the ribs as he says it, but very quickly realises that it was the wrong thing to say. For once, Dean craves blunt, direct Cas who calls the bullshit as he sees it. 

"Of course I meant it, Dean. I've loved you in some form or another for as long as I've known you." He pauses on an inhalation, clearly debating how much further to push this, but they're so close to the edge, teetering on the brink of riches or ruin. Someone has to jump. 

"In the beginning, I thought it was about gratitude. You helped me out of a spectacularly shitty time in my life and set me on my own two feet." Cas smiles. Not at Dean, a memory, and lord knows Dean has no possible clue what image has been stirred in Cas' mind. 

"You're an exceptionally loving and generous man," he continues, "and I'm going to be painfully honest here, and say that I thought you were hot from the very beginning. It's possible there was a little bit of hero worship mixed into my very early teenage fantasies." 

"Fantasies?" Dean voice is a very complicated mix of squeak and smoulder, because his primal instinct is to both shy away from the praise while sexing up the person complimenting him. He knows the kinds of fantasies he had as a teenager, born out of contraband pornography and whatever other people claimed to be doing with their girlfriends. Cas has had fantasies about him! If they ever get past this hellish roadblock, Dean's going to request some pretty explicit details. 

"Yes, you pervert, fantasies. Naked, technicolor daydreams starring you." Dean takes back everything he says about pissed off Cas, flirty asshole Cas is beyond a doubt his favourite. 

Dean smiles lewdly. He's comfortable with this level of conversation, so it's a profound mystery as to why he utters the next confession. 

"I thought I'd slept with Hannah." 

Cas looks at him sharply, but all he says is, "okay," it's an elongated pronunciation. 

"I haven't. At least I damn well hope I haven't, because I literally remember nothing about it, but I saw her here and she looked familiar and it was coming straight off the back of you being pissed that I'd had a thing with that girl Sam went on a date with and -"

"Dean," Cas interrupts him mid word vomit, which is probably a good thing because Dean was starting to worry about what he was going to confess to next. Probably that time he deliberately deleted one of Cas' documentaries, even though he swore he didn't. 

"Hannah only move here a couple of weeks ago, so unless our relationship is less exclusive than I thought it was, I believe you." 

"I swear I haven't had sex with anyone but my hand in months, Cas, I swear!" Dean is quick to supply. 

"Crass." Is all Cas says in response to that. His eyes are crinkling, like he's trying not to smile. "So now that we've established your abstinence, what's the real issue?" 

"I love you and I was scared of it, and then I saw her touch you and I was jealous and scared." The more Dean says, the more he feels like he's bleeding out. Too many emotions to battle against. Not enough hands to staunch the blood flow. 

"Is there anything I can do to help you not be scared or jealous?" Cas' words are careful, like he sees Dean's trauma and is blessedly not mocking him for it. When Dean shakes his head, Cas throws his arm across the back of Dean's seat. There's a levity in his voice when he says, "well then, I'll refer you back to my previous statement: you're an idiot and I love you too." 

So much for the lack of mockery! Dean jerks his head up to give Cas as good as he's been giving Dean, but when he looks at him, he sees pure warmth and joy in Cas' eyes. 

"So you love me?" Dean's heart is a violent tattoo in his rib cage. 

"So you love me," returns Cas, but it's not a question like Dean's was. 

"I do." And Dean couldn't hold back the smile the cracks his face if he tried. 

"I think we should go home. My boyfriend mentioned something about pie and quality time." Cas stands in a single fluid motion and extends his hand to Dean. 

"Don't you have to stay here until the night shift takes over? You sent Hannah home." But Dean's already allowing Cas to pull him towards the exit, helping to pull at apron strings as they go. 

"She'll forgive me," Cas shrugs. They both know it's probably not true, but it feels like it's more than worth the risk. 

They haven't even kisses yet, but there's a heady, giddy anticipation in the air as they exit the deserted diner hand in hand. Like maybe this might just all work out for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

When they arrive home, it's to an empty house. A gloriously Sam-free empty space. Dean had half expected them to rip their clothes off and barely make it to the sofa (because he has trouble separating out his romantic expectations from pornography, apparently). Instead, Cas hardly made any eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen to pour them both glasses of water that neither of them had made any noises about wanting. If it wasn't for the fact that he held onto Dean's hand with a ferocity that implied it was a lifeline to both of them, then Dean would have been a very confused boy indeed. The electricity between them at the diner was still sparking around his brain like some sort of live wire that demanded his attention, or action, so this interlude was unexpected to say the least. It was allowing nervousness to fester in Dean's mind.

They stood leaning against perpendicular sides of one of the corners of the kitchen cabinets. Clicks of throats that swallowed water echoing a little too prominently. Someone was going to have to make the first move or Dean was going to combust. And he'd raised himself to make his momma proud, so he was willing to be the bolder man in this scenario. He set his glass down with a very deliberate motion. Then reached to do the same to Cas'. He couldn't help but be a little bit disconcerted that the entire time he was moving, Cas kept his eyes uncharacteristically downcast. 

"Hey..." Dean's voice was loud in comparison to the previous hush, but the word had its intended effect and Cas raised his line of sight to meet Dean's, his face schooled to the point of absence. 

Instead of more talking, Dean leaned forward and grasped Cas' jaw with greedy, gentle hands, as if he was trying to capture a soap bubble and risking it popping instead. He held Cas' eye contact as he pulled him into a kiss, Cas' own hands reaching for his forearms, not to push back, but to hold on tightly. Kissing is rarely, if ever, not a fantastic experience. Once those nasty early teen years are passed and you work out that there is a speed between having someone else's tongue lie placidly in your mouth like a slug, or God forbid the other extreme of human washing machine. Crack the code and kissing is a wonderland and Cas is made of magic; his stubble scrapes deliciously against Dean's chin and he gasps into their kiss with delight radiating though his little audible breaths and sighs. He's warm and soft and firm and Dean is in heaven. 

 

When he pulled back, Dean took a moment for himself before he opened his eyes to find Cas staring at him, his expression nowhere near as politely detached as before... 

"Wow..." was all he seemed to be willing to offer initially. Dean arched an eyebrow to invite further elaboration, but none appeared to be forthcoming.

"Wow?" he eventually queried.

"Wow," nodded Cas in affirmation. Dean was determined that his impatience wasn't going to ruin the moment, but it didn't look like Cas had any intention of making his thoughts any clearer. 

"I'm going to need a little more than that, buddy," he said. Cas' eyes narrowed in displeasure. "What?" he tried to keep the defensiveness out of his voice, but it was hard not to feel like Cas wasn't being deliberately obtuse about sparing Dean any emotional discomfort. And yeah, maybe he deserved a little taste of his own medicine, but now was not the time. 

"Buddy?" Cas' voice was thick with disdain and he raised his eyebrows challengingly just to make sure that he really hammered home his disgust. 

"Baby?" Dean tried on reflex - establishing pet names was always like establishing kinks in Dean's book, lots of awkwardness and soft under bellies exposed until you found your respective niches. If Cas' snort was anything to go by, 'baby' was not on the menu either. 

"Oh come on, Cas, help me out here!" Dean's exasperation was desperately trying to shield his nervousness.

"We can come back to pet names later, but the 'wow' was a commendation on the kiss - not bad for a first one." Cas' voice was teasing and coaxing in equal measures. 

"Cas, honey -" And now Dean was just throwing out names to be an asshole. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we've definitely kissed before just now." 

"I have kissed you before tonight, you're quite right, but this evening marks the momentous occasion of you kissing me for the first time," he said as he leaned back against the countertop in victory. 

Dean was left to gape stupidly at Cas for a moment. "Wait, what?" Apparently words would not be helping to ease the stupidity. 

Cas smiled gently at him and reached to draw Dean into a hug. "You probably don't keep track of all these things, but I have to tell you: when the person you want to be close to is keeping you at arm's length, you begin to keep a little tally on how many times each party initiates contact." Dean made to pull out of the embrace to set Cas straight, but he was held firm. "Just let me finish this, Dean - and it's easier to expose the wound if I don't have to look directly at you." Dean could feel Cas' breath as it puffed across the back of his neck, it was alarmingly intimate. "I was beginning to feel like I was forcing you into this - please don't interrupt, I just need to say it - I noticed that it was always me that kissed you or reached out to touch you. I know you always reciprocated, but it's hard not to get a complex about these things when you're already worried you're forcing the other person into a relationship they don't really want..." 

As Cas' words trailed off, Dean squeezed him tighter and turned his head to press several kisses into Cas' neck. He squirmed away at the ticklishness but allowed Dean to maintain the hold. 

"And this hypothetical second person that you seem to be addressing is you, right?" Dean may be many things, but he wasn't as incompetent as many a casual observer might have preferred to believe. Cas' responding noise was acquiescence enough. 

"Cas, I feel like everything I've contributed to this relationship so far has fucked you over in some way..." And now it was Cas' turn to squeeze back in assurance. "Cas, you mean so much to me and if I'm being honest, it never even occurred to me that I'd never kissed you, but I'm very happy to try to make that up to you." 

This time Cas allowed himself to be repositioned so that Dean could kiss him soundly. Lips, tongue, contended sighs and all. It was fucking fantastic. Dean guided them from PG-rated to something much more interesting as soon as decency would allow. And by 'decency', he obviously meant his flaming libido which was currently at war with his conscience. In fairness to his brain, he and Cas had covered some pretty serious topics in the last few hours and there was definitely some scar tissue hiding under the surface for the both of them. But then, you know, sex. Sex with Cas, which, if the kissing was any indication, was definitely going to be awesome. 

He added some extra pressure to the most recent of his kisses before pulling back to look Cas in the eye. If the way Cas chased his mouth was anything to go by, his upstairs brain was definitely not going to be victorious today. Outstanding. 

He reached for Cas' hand and leaned into his body heat. "Bed?" He tempered his lewder instincts, and smiled at Cas the way that Cas deserved to be smiled at; love, reassurance, desire and hope all dancing across Dean's features.

"We're doing this?" Cas' smile negated any nervousness he might have felt. 

"All of it." And because he's Dean Winchester and he can't let any moment be too cinematic... "All I need's a flat surface, darlin'" His swagger is somewhat ruined by the yelp that escaped his mouth when Cas smacked him across the ass. He's strong, okay? And the angle stung. And it was unexpected. If Cas' smug bastard chuckle is anything to go by, he's not even going to allow Dean the illusion of dignity. Marvellous. Actually, it really is. Laughing and joking with Cas has always been one of Dean's favourite pastimes. Do know that that extends to sex as much as the rest of their relationship is pretty fucking spectacular. 

Dean pauses one final time on the threshold of his bedroom - it seems more natural to bring Cas into his space since Cas is the one who's been fretting about pushing Dean into a commitment he didn't want to give. He prays briefly but profusely to the gods of good housekeeping that the sheets are relatively fresh and that he hasn't left anything unmentionable lying around on the bedside table, before he leans in to kiss Cas chastely, briefly. 

"I love you," he said and it rings of a truth he doesn't dare hope to believe in. 

Cas holds his eye, smiles and returns the sentiment. 

Well, okay then.


	6. Chapter 6

When Dean wakes up, he's initially a little discombobulated and it takes him a moment too long to realise that this is because he's on the wrong side of the bed. The literal one rather than the metaphorical one. He can't see his mother's picture which is strange - like leaving the house and realising he's forgotten to put on the ring he wears on his right hand - but he's also hit with the realisation that if he's on the side of the bed that he never sleeps on, it must mean that someone else is in his place. Dean's not normally so groggy in the morning, but the weight of a foreign body in the bed last night meant that Dean's subconscious decided he needed to be on guard, just in case this person decided to attack. It's ludicrous, but Dean's not actually used to sharing a bed with someone, but it's a feeling that he's going to have to get used to. He hopes. 

If Dean were the sort to indulge in his fantasy of the 'morning after' his and Cas' first night together, he might have assumed they'd wake up entangled; a beautiful mass of bodies. If he was the sort. Which he's not. Therefore he's absolutely not disappointed to wake up and discover that he and Cas aren't touching in the slightest. He hasn't turned over yet, because if he never rolls over, he won't have to face the possible disappointment of Cas not actually being there. It's a thought that makes his stomach drop. He currently has the covers hunched up far too high around his ears to be able to hear if Cas' still there by his breathing. He's not a snored either, apparently. Or he's lying awake just as terrified as Dean. Shit. Dean should do something. He should definitely roll over and be a man and snuggle his honey if he's there, or begin suitable one-night-stand meets walk-of-shame-in-your-own-home crisis management plans. 

He's acutely aware of his nudity and the heat that has built under the warmth of the blankets in the night as he opts to gently twist himself rather than hurling his body over to the other side like he normally would. Dean's not normally one to be shy about his body - he's been told by many a causal acquaintance that he has a delightful ass - but no one likes to face the unknown with their dick out. This is why he usually tries to shuffle on at least some boxers after the main event. Who knows when one might have to vacate a space rapidly? 

Dean enjoys space, so naturally he indulged in the largest bed his budget could afford as soon as he was enough of a grown up to warrant buying something as domestic as a bed. It's a sublime piece of craftsmanship and Dean rarely has a bad night's sleep as a result (present circumstances not withstanding). The downside of this is that even when he turns, he has to surreptitiously lift the remaining blankets in the middle of the bed to triple check there is actually another body occupying it. Sure enough, a gentle nudge reveals Castiel's beautiful spine - smooth, supple and with the barest hint of vertebrae protruding.

"Dean," Cas' voice startles Dean and his arm flails upwards involuntarily, "for the love of all that is holy, leave the covers alone and stop letting cold air in." He still has his back firmly towards Dean, but there's something eased in Dean's chest when he reaches back blindly and beckons Dean closer. Or at least that's the meaning Dean's going to infer from Cas' clumsy gestures. It's either a 'come closer' or 'fuck right off'. He's going to hope for the best for once. 

His bravery is rewarded by Cas burrowing backwards into his chest and it's not long before a light film of sweat gathers between their bodies. Dean's so enraptured by it that he squeezes even closer still and trails his arm over Cas' waist and up towards his collar bone. It's pretty impressive how much power physical contact has when it comes to erasing his doubts. Maybe it's like morphine - he still has them, he just doesn't care that he has them while he's under the influence. 

"So," Cas utters around a yawn, "that was sex."

Dean hums at the memory before he reads a little more deeply into Cas' words.

"Cas?" he draws out the vowel, careful not to make it sound accusatory.

"Hmm?"

"What do you mean 'so that was sex'? Dude, you've had sex before." He says it all to the back of Cas' head, because his brain is wondering if it can escape the same way that his stomach just went. When Cas remains ludicrously silent, he sits bolt upright and all but throws Cas on to his back so that he can look him in the eye. Or he would if Cas' eyes weren't still closed.

"Cas, what the fuck?" He pokes Cas childishly in the shoulder to get him to crack an eye, because he's fucking panicking. He hasn't slept with a virgin in nearly ten years and they need special care, don't they? Log burning fireplaces, mood lighting, flowers... Fuck. This wasn't special enough, he's ruined Cas' first experience of sex by not focusing enough on him - he should have pulled out ALL his best moves, not just some of them. Shit. 

He's saved from his colossal freak out by the sight of Cas' grin. It's broad and covers his whole face, even more so as his chin sinks back into the bed. 

"You alright there, Dean?" He doesn't sound in the least bit panicked which is tipping Dean over the edge. 

"Cas, was last night the first time you've had sex?" He gets a mischievous grin and a non-committal shrug in response. 

"Cas!" Dean's whine is downright embarrassing and he hopes Sam hasn't ventured home yet, or at least is sound asleep still. 

"Dean," Cas stretches all the vowels in Dean's name back at him. Quite honestly, Dean's still thrown by the huge grin on his face. 

"Are you messing with me right now?" 

"Possibly."

"Cas - dude, don't do this to me -" 

"'Dude' is also not an option," is all Cas says before he attempts to roll back onto his side again, and shit no, Dean's getting answers. 

"Castiel, tell me the truth - was last night the first time you'd had sex?" The hysteria in his voice must loosen something in Cas because he reaches up and cups Dean's chin to pull him down for a closed mouth kiss.

"Dean, what difference does it make?" Dean's almost certain Cas is fucking with him, poor choice of words fully intended. He's just too calm about the whole thing. 

"Of course it makes a difference! I would have... I could have..." 

"You could have or would have what, Dean? Was it not enjoyable?" Dean shakes his head mutely - it had been highly enjoyable for both parties if his amateur opinion counts or anything. Dean doesn't remember the last time he felt so much spark between him and his partner. There was no need to politely avoid eye contact if the moment was getting too intense, or pretend that noises hadn't happened. Hell, they'd laughed over things that Dean usually finds himself mortified by. There was no need to pretend to be a sex God when he was with someone who believed in him so completely. Someone who gave as willingly to their partner as Dean did. Cas' actions last definitely hasn't screamed of inexperience (there may or may not have been actual screaming on both sides). 

"Dean, the past is the past; whether you're the first or the hundred and first person that I've had sex with, it was our first time together and it was pretty fucking good." He smiles at his curse and Dean allows himself to be brought down to the bed again so that his head is pillowed on Cas' chest. 

"So you're not going to tell me?" Dean says into Cas' chest several moments later. "Would you tell me if I was one hundred and first?" He challenges, hoping a different tact might yield more fruitful results. 

"We're you not there for my very postmodern speech a moment ago?"

"Yeah, but Cas, you've met more than your fair share of people I've slept with. Hell, you probably remember more names than I do..." He lets his words hang and tried to subtly manoeuvre his ear over Cas' heart to hear any change in the rhythm. Cas just tsks at him and pets his hair. 

"That may be the case, Dean, but we're still here now and they're not." 

Dean lets the words settle over him. Cas is a jealous sonofabitch at the best of times, so this metaphorical clean slate is leaving Dean somewhat lost. He has no intention of betraying Cas or his trust, but he doesn't know if he can just let the past go. 

"I've hurt you, though - in the past, I mean." Dean tends wounds for a living, he knows what happens if things aren't given the right conditions to heal. 

"You didn't know, Dean - or even if you did, I was too young for it to be something you took seriously." 

"I've always taken you seriously," Dean implores. 

"Dean," Cas smiles, "I don't take me seriously all the time, especially not when I think about the ways I used to fantasise about you, how you'd storm into school one day, grab me and kiss me in front of everyone..."

"Du- Cas, was your subconscious trying to get me arrested for interfering with a minor?" Dean teases. "Did you imagine me climbing on top of a coffee cart and proclaiming my love for you? Was there a musical number?" Banter he can do. It's comfortable, easy - especially with Cas. 

"I told you it was foolish!" Cas pokes his side indignantly and Dean can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "You were my best friend's incredibly hot older, unobtainable brother. Of course I fantasised about you being the first person I ever slept with, and then later it was about you storming into the house to take me away in the middle of the night. Fighting off my cousins and uncle... I suppose fantasy did effectively become reality there..." 

It's on the tip of Dean's tongue to ask about the virginity thing again, but he suspects it'll piss Cas off, so he hums and draws Cas in tightly. "You saved yourself, Cas. We just happened to have a safe place for you to go." He's not being self deprecating, Cas literally just walked out of there one night and never looked back. Dean had very little to do with it, other than drive with Sam to pick Cas up from the diner he now works in. He said it was the only light on at that time of night, Dean likes to think someone was watching out for Cas and sent him to Missouri until Dean could get to him. 

He's interrupted from any semblance of sentimentality by Cas smacking him viciously on the ass - despite the covers which should have softened it. "Hey Winchester," he says as he throws the covers off of Dean completely (see, this is why sleeping naked is bad, it's all soft exposure and no dignity). "If I blow you in the shower, will you buy me breakfast?" 

And with that glorious notion, he rolls out of bed, stretches his body up to his full height, winks at Dean over his shoulder and then proceeds to walk purposefully out of the room. 

Dean hopes sincerely that his eyes don't bug completely out of their sockets as they track the motion of Cas' truly spectacular ass disappearing out into the corridor. He also hopes Sam isn't home or he's going to catch an almighty eyeful as Dean hurries after his asshole boyfriend.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie and Sam are already firmly ensconced in a booth towards the back of the bar by the time Dean and Cas are ready to join them for the evening - there had been a slight mishap with someone's buttons getting torn off a shirt when someone else (cough, Cas) decided he absolutely, positively had to lavish Dean's body with a level of attention that would have had him condemned as idolatrous in another lifetime... Okay, in reality, Dean couldn't find his nice jeans and Cas wouldn't let him wear the ones that he'd spilt syrup down that morning. His version of events was much better and he'd already warned Cas that if anyone asked, that was the story they would be getting. Cas had narrowed his eyes in a manner that suggested Dean was a fucking dead man walking if he even tried to pull that shit. Dean was relatively sure he could take him. Like a solid 90% sure. If he got a couple of drinks in Cas just as a precaution. 

Domestic grumblings aside, it was pretty nice to walk into a public place with Cas on his arm. His main goal might have been traversing the floor to reach Charlie and Sam, but he could multitask and scope out the appreciative glances of others at what a handsome couple they made. It was a redundant kind of affirmation, but Dean was petty enough to enjoy possessing things that other people wanted. And please, dear god, don't let Cas have developed mind reading abilities in the last 30 seconds or he was going to make Dean suffer for that idle thought. Obviously he didn't possess Cas. Obviously. It was just nice to know that other people found Cas as hot as he did. Looking only. Definitely no touching allowed. 

Dean's adventures in Wonderland were brought to an abrupt halt by the realisation that they were already at Sam and Charlie's table and that three pairs of eyes were watching him with various degrees of expectation, incredulity and fond indulgence. He decided to reward Charlie's patience with him by sitting down next to her. Sam got a fond hair ruffle on the way which duly turned his expression to exasperation which paired rather nicely with Cas' baleful look as it became increasingly clear that he would be getting the first round of drinks in. He politely checked that Sam and Charlie would like the same again before turning from the table. 

"Hey, blue eyes!" Dean was secretly delighted when several heads turned his way. Still have the old Winchester magic then. 

"No."

"No, what?" Dean faltered slightly, because he wasn't actually trying to piss Cas off and his monosyllabic response was a little unnerving. 

"No to 'blue eyes', but obviously I'm getting you a drink, Dean, don't be simple."

"Yeah, but I haven't told you what I want to drink yet, babe- CAS, definitely said Cas." 

Cas' response was to tap his temple several times and then give Dean the finger as he walked away. 

"Was he always such a prick or did I make him like this?" Dean wondered aloud before turning back to the table to see that both Sam and Charlie were making big old heart eyes at him. "Alright, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, what's up with you two?"

Sam's smirk said enough, but then Charlie chimed in with, "You guys are the stuff that Tumblr is made of." As she cupped her chin in both hands and proceed to stare at Dean. 

"Tum-what?"

"Safer you don't know, dude, believe me." Sam shook away whatever mental image had been conjured by Charlie's comment. "I am glad to see that you're back to torturing each other purely for entertainment value, though - we were a bit worried for a while." The flippancy of the words was definitely at odds with the sincerity of his expression and tone. 

"Dude, Cas and I are fine, we were always going to be -" Sam's scoff cut him off quite effectively. "Was it really that rocky from the outside?" Because, shit, it has been a fucking tsunami from the inside, but Dean had been hoping that they'd been keeping off the radar enough so that if things had gone south, there was still a salvageable friendship for Sam and Cas, and Charlie and Cas, but mostly Sammy - they'd been good friends long before Dean entered the frame. Sam had given Cas the time of day long before Dean was even aware of kid's existence. 

"Dean, you're never as subtle as you give yourself credit for. You and Cas have been going backwards and forwards over the friendship line for years - in fact, I'm surprised there even is a line between you." 

Dean will deny it until his deathbed, but he swears that as Cas appears to place the glasses on the table, Charlie mutters the words 'bond' and 'profound', but there is not enough pie in all the land to make Dean touch that Pandora's Box with a ten foot pole. 

Instead he reaches for his beer, because Cas is a beautiful human being who knows Dean much too well for his own good, and blows him a kiss over the top of the glass before he takes his first drink. Cas keeps a menacing level of eye contact as he tips his head down to take a drink from his own glass, but there is a slight smile playing on his lips as he puts his glass back on the table. 

There's a comfortable silence as everyone takes a drink and soaks up the atmosphere of the bar. Midweek's always a good time to come - sure there's some college kids hanging around the pool table and they're maybe a bit louder than Dean would prefer, but he's not that old. Plus, he's basically dating one of their peers. Which is a weird thought because not one of those kids actually looks like they should legally be in a bar. He could say something, get some IDs checked. He should say something - Christ on a cracker, when did he get so old? He takes himself out of his musings and scans the bar idly. Which turns out to be a spectacularly bad move, because he catches the eye of a blonde that looks like she's just walked in on her own ahead of all her friends so she's clearly looking for a familiar face to pass the time with. Lucky for her, and unluckily for Dean, he's definitely a familiar face...

"Dean! Imagine meeting you here - are you local? I didn't think this was your usual type of place!" She, Melissa, is all curls, curves and enthusiasm and Dean braces for one hell of an impact. She'd walked up with a startling level of familiarity and no context as far as everyone at the table but Dean is concerned. 

"He-hey, Melissa," he coughs to clear his throat and deliberately doesn't look at anyone else even as he feels guilt prickle heat into his cheeks. Charlie could possibly help him out if she wanted to, but she's suspiciously quiet. "Good to see you. Night out?" He tries to edge back from the hand that comes to rest across the back of his neck and shoulders, but Melissa seems pretty intent on spending this conversation draped over his whole upper body. 

"Yeah!" She enthuses, clearly not reading the tension screaming from his body. "The girls must be running late, but that means I get to spend some extra quality time with you." She beams at him, oh crap, this is definitely bad. "And meet your friends, of course." Fucking, fuck. Okay, this is really bad. 

"Yeah, how about that... Melissa, this is my brother, Sam." Sam reaches across the table to take the hand that she offers him, he's bemused but cooperative. Dean's too afraid to look at Cas yet, but he's hoping that the fact that Melissa still has an arm means that he's in a benevolent mood. "Charlie, you remember Melissa, right?" Charlie raises her eyebrows at his vagueness but affirms his question. Okay, time to bite the proverbial. "And this is Cas...' He considers not adding the label, but the thing is, he's really, really fucking proud of the fact that Cas is his boyfriend, it's just that as soon as this introduction is made, he's going to have some serious explaining to do. "Cas is my-"

"Roommate." Cas supplies, out of nowhere. 

"What? No!" Both Cas and Melissa turn to look at him, and if the prickles on the side of his neck are anything to go by, so do Charlie and Sam. But currently, he can only deal with so much, so he takes in Melissa's confusion and Cas' challenge. 

"Melissa, meet my boyfriend, Cas." He hits the word 'boyfriend' with all the gravity that he can muster. 

The table seems to exhale collectively at the same time as Melissa realises that her body language might actually be a little compromising given the context of Dean's relationship. She withdraws her arm gently and a smiles sheepishly at Cas. 

"I've heard a lot about you," she offers. 

"Really?" Dean's not sure if Cas' terseness is directed at him, Melissa or the situation, but it means that his voice is at a register that implies brain matter on the sidewalk is in multiple people's futures. 

"No, not really." Melissa, God love her, tries to smile it out but her eyes are darting around for an exit. She sighs in audible relief when she spots her friends. "Okay, Dean - this has been fun." It definitely hasn't. "I guess I'll see you in class on Friday!" And with a casual wave to everyone else, she leaves Dean royally in the shit. 

 

The table is quiet for all of two seconds before Sam says, "Class?" at the exact same time as Charlie says, "That's Melissa? Dude, you never told me she was so hot!" 

Dean ignores both of them to seek out Cas whose eyes are trained on the grain of the table's wooden surface. He tracks the grooves with his thumb nail and doesn't acknowledge the nudge to his foot that Dean sends his way under the table. 

Ostensibly what happened just now wasn't a complete and total disaster. This is all very manageable. He just wishes that someone else was managing it. 

Sam and Charlie seem to be oblivious to the Cas situation at the moment, which is unusual because they're normally the chief cheerleaders to all of Dean's endeavours as far as Cas is concerned, but instead they press him to answer their questions. 

Charlie's being the easier, he starts there: "Yeah, that's her. Dude, I think she might swing your way, I dunno though, she spoke about a high school boyfriend she followed to college... Blah, blah - big mistake, ruined the best years of her life... You know the drill." Charlie hums thoughtfully and then her eyes begins to canvas the bar for Melissa's friendship group - as if she can get visual confirmation of Dean's interpretation. 

One down, two to go.

"And yeah, Sam; classes."

"Classes in what?" 

Dean doesn't take his eyes off of Cas, despite Sam's evident enthusiasm.

"Paramedic." 

Turns out watching Cas was the best choice he's very made. He gets to see the smile that spreads wide across his face - his chin's still down but he raises his eyes to meet Dean's and who knew you could find so much validation, pride and love in a single look. Sam's talking to him, he can hear the indistinct words of praise and encouragement being sent his away, but he doesn't dare take his focus away from Cas in case the illusion shatters. 

"Sam." Cas' voice cuts through all of Sam's giddiness and he might even pause mid-word. "Would you mind getting some more drinks so we can celebrate properly?" 

"But our glasses are still full... " he trails himself off, then quickly rises. "So everybody for another drink?" Then leaves the table without waiting for the reply that he knows wasn't forthcoming. 

Dean holds Cas' eye as long as he can, but he never stood a chance against the master of long looks. He drops his head bashfully. 

"I'm proud of you." Cas' voice is so earnest that Dean can't do anything but beckon him over to his side of the table, Cas being Cas ignores Charlie's vacated seat (and when in the hell did she even leave?) and instead drops into Dean's lap. He takes hold of Dean's face and kisses him with a warmth that makes Dean suddenly realise that it wasn't just about the paramedic thing. 

"I'm proud of you too, you know that, right?" Dean asks as Cas pulls back. His silence makes Dean think that, no, he probably didn't. "Cas, I couldn't be more proud of the fact that you're my boyfriend - I would never, never hide you. Do you honestly think that after everything it took to get us here that I would douche out on you in front of an audience of strangers?" 

Cas picks at Dean's lapel and keeps his head low. 

"Cas, the whole diner knows we're dating. Hell, they probably knew you liked me before I knew you liked me. What's to be shy about now?"

"They're family, Dean." Cas appears to struggle about where to go from here in order to explain himself. Dean can be patient though, he's willing to wait for this. 

"I just underestimated how important it was that you were proud to be with me."

"Cas," Dean says as gently as he can. He draws his hand to the back of Cas' neck to lift his chin so that they are both, gloriously on the same page. "I'm always going to love you. Always. One day, if you want me to, I'll stand up in front of all our friends and tell you that again. But for now, I need you to believe how very, very in love with you I am."

Cas reaches for his jaw and draws him in for a kiss, and because symmetry is important at a moment like this, Dean cups his jaw in return. It's a remarkably chased kiss, but it speaks of an understanding they've finally, finally reached. 

"And if you still don't believe me, I could make excellent use of this available flat surface to prove to you and everyone else that you're mine." His grins wolfishly into Cas' cheek and is thoroughly rewarded by Sam balking and almost dropping the drinks on his shoes. 

Cas laughs loudly and freely, and once his half-hearted efforts to move back to his own chair are thoroughly thwarted by Dean pulling him close, he settles his back against Dean's chest as he reaches for his drink to clink glasses with Dean, Sam and Charlie who looks a little flusher than usual. Dean's hoping Melissa is in a similar state. 

He hums into his drink as they salute each other. Life is pretty fucking good sometimes. He wishes his mother could see what the little seeds of her family grew into. They're happy, they're together and they're loved. It's a pretty great legacy. 

 

And because he's Dean Winchester and he can't let any good night be ruined by sentimentality, he dedicates a large portion of the rest of the evening to trying to convince Cas to let Dean blow him in the bathroom. Oh yeah, he's a classy motherfucker. But Cas loves him anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt to explore their first 'I love you's and this is what happened.


End file.
